


for every evil under the sun

by mieraspeller



Category: Practical Magic, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Friendship, Gen, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 15:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mieraspeller/pseuds/mieraspeller
Summary: Lydia Martin refuses to accept anything less than complete mastery of a subject. Even when that includes magic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For every evil under the sun,  
> There is a remedy, or there is none.  
> If there be one, seek till you find it;  
> If there be none, never mind it.  
> \- Mother Goose   
> (Practical Magic, Berkeley Edition)

Natalie Martin née Owens knew one day her past would catch up to her. She just didn’t think it would be her youngest daughter who would be dragged, screaming, into the world of magic that she had left behind. Her own mother had warned her, but Natalie was young, and had half convinced herself that magic was just luck, and coincidence, despite all evidence to the contrary. Her sister and cousins were rooted firmly in the family tradition. They made love potions, or herbal remedies, or told fortunes. Natalie scoffed at the lot of them and went to Berkeley for a communications degree, and pretended she was an orphan when her fiancé asked her who she wanted to invite to the wedding. Then there was a daughter, who had the look of an Owens’ woman. Natalie could feel how strong she would be. Paige had her grandmother’s raven wing hair and eyes, and moved through life with an effortlessness that Natalie would have envied fifteen years ago. And then she died before she had had the chance to graduate. 

All of Natalie’s attention turned to Lydia, who had her hair and who had, in the wake of her sister’s death and the tender age of twelve, tucked away dreams for ruthless practicality, determined to form her life rather than to be formed by it.  


Years passed, and then Natalie ignored the signs again, blood moons and the feeling of something looking over her shoulder, or walking over her grave, and when Lydia woke to tell her she was attacked by a monster, like Paige had been attacked, and lived, where Paige had died, Natalie sat in her daughter’s hospital room holding her daughter’s hand tightly. And called home.


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia woke on the edge of a scream. She fought it, clamping her teeth down before the sound could leave her mouth and for a moment she was lying in the grass of the field and her own blood with a monster standing over her. Then she registered the pressure on her hand, and her mother was leaning over her. 

“Lydia, honey?” 

“Mom,” Lydia managed, hand spasming in her mother’s. Tears formed and pooled at the corners of her eyes as she stared with wide eyes at a yellow tinged hospital room. 

“It’s okay, sweetie. You’re safe now.” 

“It was… their must have been alcohol… hallucinogens in the punch. He looked like a monster.” She lifted a heavy arm to scrub at the tears on the side of her face. When she looked over and caught her mother’s eye, she stilled. “Mom?” 

“Just a moment, hon.” Her mother pulled down the edge of the blanket and Lydia was so taken aback she didn’t protest as she peeled one edge of a large gauze pad from Lydia’s side. Her face went white. 

“I… I have to make a phone call. I promise I’ll explain everything… soon,” Natalie said, pale and determined. She stood, then swiftly leaned down and hugged Lydia. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she added, then her heels clacked across the linoleum, phone already coming up as she went into the hall.

Lydia stared after her, watching through the window in the door as her mother spoke to someone on the phone, expression sliding from trepidation to relief in seconds, then she was back in, smiling nervously. 

“My sister’s already on her way,” Natalie said. 

“You don’t have a sister,” Lydia said, feeling slow. That, in turn, made her tongue sharper than she normally turned on her parents. “Or is that one of the lies Dad’s always screaming about?” 

“Oh. Honey, I -” Natalie broke off as someone knocked briskly on the door, than a nurse with dark curly hair leaned in, holding a flower arrangement. “Oh, thank you, Melissa.” 

“Interesting arrangement,” the nurse said, handing it to Natalie. “Is that a tree branch?” 

“Flower from a rowan tree,” Natalie said blithely. “Sort of a good luck charm in my family.” 

“And rosemary? I don’t do much cooking, but that I recognize.” 

“Lydia was sleeping… I thought the smell would be more use to her than the look.” Natalie took the arrangement and set it gently on the table next to the bed. “She just woke up a minute ago.” 

“And how are you feeling, Lydia?” 

“Like I was attacked by a psychopath.” Lydia watched her mother narrowly as she fussed with the plants. “But I gather I’m out of danger, since no one came running when I woke up?” 

“You went into shock, but you’re stable now, and the doctor is running blood to make sure you’ll stay that way,” Melissa said, after glancing at her mother for permission. “And of course, you have a few wounds we’ll need to keep an eye on. The sheriff still needs to take your statement when you’re up for it.” 

“Fine.” Lydia tipped her head back. “I’m awake and apparently of sound mind. Can I take a shower?” 

“Let me check you over first,” Melissa said with a hint of amusement in her tone that made Lydia’s teeth bare involuntary. 

Melissa looked her over and pronounced her wounds acceptable. “I’m sure he’ll want you overnight for observation, but your stitches look good. I’ll get something to put over your bandages so you can get cleaned up.” As soon as she was out the door, Natalie leaned over her daughter. “Lydia. Lydia?” 

Rolling her eyes, Lydia turned to look at her mother, eyebrows raised. “I was quiet for two seconds, calm down.” 

“Sweetie… you were staring into space for at least four or five minutes after Melissa left.” 

Lydia stared at her mother, then scoffed. “Mom-” 

“Lydia…” she paused then her head rose in anticipation. “Georgina’s here.” 

Quelling the urge to scream - Lydia was getting tired of everyone knowing more than she did, or saying something cryptic then walking off, she grabbed her mother’s hand. “Mom.” 

“My sister,” Natalie explained, standing up as the door to Lydia’s room opened, and a woman with dark hair and eyes but the same cheekbones as her mother’s walked in, briskly pulling Natalie into a hug. “I’m sorry,” Lydia heard her mother say, muffled into the other woman’s shoulder. 

“You must be Lydia,” Georgina said, reaching her free hand out and grasping Lydia’s. Lydia jerked as a sting of static shock crossed between their hands. “I’m so glad to meet you, even under such inauspicious circumstances. Rowan, Natalie?” 

“I think it’s necessary,” Lydia’s mother replied, and Lydia gritted her teeth.

“Mom.” She said it flatly, annoyance as clear as she could make it. Georgina turned and looked at Lydia with a scrutiny that was disquieting after days without washing her hair. Lydia met her eyes squarely regardless. When their eyes met, Lydia felt a bolt of recognition hit her, and she squinted at the woman. After a moment, she dismissed the feeling as her brain making a subconscious connection between familial features. 

“Oh, sweetheart. The wolf is still tethered to her, Nat. I knew I should have taken Kylie up on her offer to come.” While Lydia was still processing that absurd statement, Georgina opened a large purse and tucked a small cloth bag in Lydia’s hand. “This is from the aunts. Hold onto that, it’ll protect you from the bastard that attacked you. I can practically smell the storm brewing in this town, Natalie. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather bring Lydia back home until this is done?” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lydia protested, bolting upright. “I’ve got school.” 

“That must be from her father’s side,” Georgina said, rubbing her ear lightly. “Banshee?” 

“Ex _cuse me_?” 

“I brought your book,” Georgina continued, ignoring Lydia’s offended protest. “Tell me what’s happened so far, and I’ll -” she paused and turned to her mother, and Lydia felt a tinge of awareness of someone in the hall. A subconscious response to something out of her conscious hearing range, she decided, as her mother opened the door and in tumbled Stiles Stilinski, with Scott McCall a half step behind him, both still in their outfits from the dance, though damaged nearly beyond recognition. 

Stiles stuttered out an apology that fumbled into a rare silence as Georgina took his chin in hand and stared him down.

“You’re both involved, aren’t you?” She glanced at Scott. “Which of the wolves attacked Lydia? It wasn’t you,” she added. “Though you do have someone’s blood on you.” 

“Wha- wolves? There aren’t any wolves in California,” Stiles said. “I mean - it was a mountain lion, right?” He looked at Lydia, who stared impassively back, then flinched when she saw the smirking face of the man that had attacked her. 

“Peter,” she choked out, the name fighting it’s way past her clenched teeth. 

“How did she know that?” Scott hissed at Stiles who did some sort of flailing move in response.

“The wolf, kid.” 

“She smells like flowers and lightning,” Scott whispered, looking longingly at the hall as if he would make a break for it. 

“Georgina, don’t terrorize the poor boys,” Natalie protested. “I’m sure they don’t know anything.” 

And that, Lydia saw, was the correct tactic. Stiles puffed up like robin. “Peter Hale attacked Lydia but he’s -” and then abruptly deflated. “Uh. Gone. No trouble from him anymore. Suuuuper gone.” 

“Who’s the new alpha?” Georgina pressed, and now the boys were looking at her with a just a little bit of fear. 

“You’re not a hunter, too, are you?” Scott asked, edging backwards, one hand gripping Stiles’ shirt as if to yank him out of harm’s way.

Georgina and Natalie both let out snorts of laughter. “Hardly. Georgina Owens.” When they still looked confused, Georgina said, “Call the alpha. Tell them to meet us at the Martin house in - what do you think?” 

“At least two hours,” Natalie decided. “Lydia will need an explanation.”

“In two hours. And bring something of Peter’s. Something significant to him.” 

With that, Georgina ushered both boys out of the room. Natalie went to get Lydia checked out of the hospital against strident protests. 

“So. Wolves? Some kind of gang? And the alpha is the leader. Peter Hale died, so there’s a new leader, and somehow this person is supposed to… what?” Lydia asked, feeling ridiculous for just saying that jumble of deductions based on what she had heard. “And hunters? Argents, as in my best friend Allison Argent?” 

“Oh, honey. You got knocked into the deep end with this one. I promise we’ll explain everything when we get back to your house, but in the meantime, keep that sachet close. And if you feel funny, blackout for a second… see anything? Let us know right away.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lydia listened with growing annoyance as her mother and her… aunt spoke of nothing but various familial pleasantries as they drove home. She learned about a cousin at Brown, another cousin having a new daughter, and a new addition on the island house, whatever that meant. She was leaning forward in her seat in impatience by the time they pulled into the drive, despite the pressure on her wounds. 

“Jeff’s still in Atlanta for another day,” Natalie said, “so we can use the house. The kitchen would be best - I was planning on getting it retiled soon.” Lydia rolled her eyes as the two women got out the car, circling around to help Lydia out of the back seat. 

They still weren’t making sense when they deposited Lydia in the shower after her mom taped plastic wrap over her bandages. If Lydia wasn’t currently moving at the pace of an arthritic octogenarian, she would have crept back down the stairs to listen like she had as a child. Instead she scrubbed herself with vigor and limped back to her bedroom. She pulled on a nightgown and a robe carefully before inching her way back down the stairs. 

The air felt charged as she approached. Like there was a storm brewing in her house. Lydia stood on the bottom stair, cursing the open floor plan remodel as she strained to hear her mother’s words. 

“Possessed?” Natalie asked. Her voice shook. “This is my fault. I should have at least told her, let her make her own choice. After Paige…” 

“It’s too late to change anything now. We need to deal with the problem at hand.” 

“Sorry, you’re right. I’ll set up.” 

“Good. I think I have what we need here, but if not, Antonia or Lucy can email us the rest.” A chair creaked, and footsteps crossed the floor, and Lydia took two steps back up the stairs as Georgina’s voice grew closer. “I think he left a shade, and it’s drawn to her because of her banshee abilities. I didn’t know the man personally, but I’d heard of him. Obviously he made a contingency plan in the event of his death.”

Lydia took the last two steps with great care, looking up as Georgina rounded the wall and stood next to the staircase. “Ghosts and banshees,” Lydia said, with as much skepticism as she could muster. She walked carefully toward the kitchen, stomach yelling for sustenance now that she was clean. 

“Shade,” Georgina corrected. “Not the same as a ghost. Werewolves don’t leave behind ghosts.” 

“Werewolves. Riiiight. Mom, your sister is obviously…” Lydia trailed off in shock as she saw the kitchen counter, covered in candles, and the circle of some gray powdery substance on the floor. As she watched, her mother blew on a candle until the wick lit, then used it to light the others. She shook her head. “Mom, I think we should ask the hospital to change up my pain meds.” 

“Honey. It’s real. Um…” Natalie smiled sheepishly. “I’m a witch.” 

 

Her mood could only be described as horrified fascination as Lydia watched her mother and her aunt ready some sort of magic ritual. She had seen - thought she had seen her mother lighting a candle with her mind. Or her breath. And a book was currently being levitated towards them from the counter. Possibly, she was in shock. Hallucinating. Or, magic was real and her mother had kept it from her for the entirety of her life. Her mind strayed to her sister, and she cut that line of thought off ruthlessly. 

Magic. Lydia obviously was not taking it on faith. Empirical data was needed, starting with further observation. Next to her, Georgina was humming tunelessly while pulling various small jars out of her bag and setting them on the table. She slid a couple over to Natalie. The levitating book thumped onto the table and flipped open, pages crackling as they moved independently. Lydia reached a hand toward the book just as it stilled on a particular page. She caught a glimpse of drawing of a plant, and calligraphy before Georgina was sliding the book away. 

“Comfrey and willow,” Natalie said, popping open one of the jars. “I haven’t practiced in years, George, I don’t know how much help I’ll be in a healing spell.” 

“A healing spell,” Lydia repeated quietly. Georgina shook her head and tapped on the open page. 

“It’s like riding a bike. Well. Like flying a plane. Maybe you forget something crucial and crash, but I’ll be here. Co-piloting. Besides, you need a warm up for the exorcism.” 

“Exorcism,” Lydia repeated flatly. 

“The werewolf who bit you,” Natalie said. Before Lydia could even begin to formulate a response to that bit of madness, Georgina let out an annoyed noise. 

“Hmph! How’s your Archaic Latin?”

“Rusty,” Natalie said, while Lydia said, unthinking, “Excellent.” 

Both women blinked at her, and Lydia straightened. “I was bored with Latin.” 

“Great!” Georgina thrust the book at her, pointing out the relevant passage. “You read this out while Nat and I get set up. The werewolves will be here in less than an hour.” 

Shaking her head, Lydia pulled the heavy tome into her lap and began picking through a translation. “This is a recipe to cure boils,” Lydia finally realized. “Eye of frog? For real?” 

“Check the index for healing,” Georgina said. “It’s in English, just added it a few years ago.” 

“You finally did it? Did mom throw a fit?” 

With not a little reservation, Lydia flipped to the back of the book, keeping an eye on her mother and aunt as they chopped and ground various bits of dried plant life while discussing the foibles of their mother. 

Lydia could relate. Then realized - that was Lydia’s grandmother they were discussing. Someone she had thought dead before she was born, and how many other family members were going to pop out of the woodwork before things went back to normal? 

When she finally found the so-called spell, it was in English, and set up like a recipe, with notes in the margins in several different handwriting styles. “It says, ‘Make a compress of comfrey and willow, apply to wound. Lay hands on the injured person and with will and positive mind,’ - Mom. Come on.” 

“Sweetie, please…” 

“Ugh. Fine. “With will and positive mind, ask the goddess for her aid in healing.” That’s it.” Lydia pushed the book away in disgust. “If that’s a spell, let me just say this magic thing is half an hour old and already disappointing.” 

“This is why you start them young,” Georgina said. “The mind is more flexible and more easily taught. Less skeptical.” 

“Naive and gullible,” Lydia countered. “And if - __if -__ this spell of yours works, then…” she shook her head. “I honestly can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. But I saw… something not human on the lacrosse field. So, excuse me for having difficulty believing something I’ve been told since childhood isn’t real.”

“Fair.” 

“The compress is ready,” Natalie said quietly. She and Georgina helped Lydia move her robe and nightgown up and out of the way, then removed the gauze. The bite mark on her side was oozing. Lydia turned her head away and swallowed back her revulsion. 

“If I get an infection-“ she said, voice shrill, and then the compress was being pressed against her wound. She winced in anticipation of pain, but instead felt cool and curiously numb where it touched. Georgina began muttering under her breath, too quiet for Lydia to make out, and her mother followed more hesitantly. 

Out of practice, Lydia thought, absurdly. She felt strangely mellow about this witchcraft business all of a sudden. Was comfrey an analgesic? She made a mental note to check. 

In the interest of science, she kept an eye on the clock. After two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, Georgina pulled back. Lydia twisted to watch her pull the compress back. It was covered with blood and some yellowish substance she would think of much later. But her side was nearly healed, only a few reddened patches of skin that didn’t hurt in the least. She ran a hand gingerly over the square of skin. 

“What the _fuck_.” 

“Lydia,” her mother reprimanded, and that. That was what finally drove Lydia into a fit of well deserved hysterics. 


End file.
